A Look Back…

Blog, book, character, excerpt, life, love, memories, rewind, Short story, Uncategorized, writing

I was going through the files on my computer today and I came across my school work from 2011. This one assignment caught my eye. It was from English class and we were studying A Streetcar Named Desire. We were asked to create a monologue for a character and fit it into the story. This was mine. I couldn’t help but laugh. The writing wasn’t the greatest but I liked the direction I painted the monologue. It’s always fun to look back and see how far we’ve come in our craft. Enjoy!

Dramatic Monologue

Blanche: [Swings open the bathroom door in a hurry, hair wet and donning a red silk robe.]

My I love bathes, I know I take many. I’m sorry for the up in your water bill but you don’t need to yell at me like that! I’ve done things I’m not proud of yes, that’s why I take so many. It’s my own demented way of coping. I wash my hair and I wash my body and I always feel brand new after, even if for only a little while. I wish I could stay that way . . . but I can’t escape my past. [Puts a hand to her brow.] That boy, that dear seventeen year old boy, he was a mistake . . . I thought I loved him. He bought me flowers and winked at me in class, he had me giggling like a little school girl. But I was a fool to lead him on, which is what I thought I was doing . . . but I not only lead him on, I returned his affection. What was I thinking? I suppose I thought he could be my handsome love, to replace my dead one. He wrote me letters, love letters as a matter of fact. Ones so steamy they could melt the ice cubes in your lemonade. [Sighs.]  I needed someone to treasure me, I always need to be treasured; I can’t stand on my own. The presence of a man keeps me at ease. And I suppose that’s why I go after Mitch. He’s stable and reliable. Perhaps one day we’ll have a quaint little weddin’ ceremony. I’ll have a lily in my hair and he’ll look dapper as can be. And we’ll say our vows and kiss and settle down in a little summer house and have cute little babies . . . but that’s just a dream of mine. A silly little dream. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted to get from me? To spill all my locked up secrets? [Sarcastic.] Well aren’t you a big man Stanley! Don’t tell me your hands are spiffy clean! You walk around like you’re the king of everything, having my poor little sister scrub and cook and – and . . . please you! [Points a shaky finger at Stanley and shouts.] You are despicable! [Takes a few breathes and looks from Stella to Stanley and back, with her hand clutched to her chest, her fighting spirit is deflated.] Perhaps one day I’ll soak long enough my sins and downfalls flow through my pores and out into my jasmine bath water . . .

Where should this go in the play that would be the most effective?

            I feel this would be most effective in the scene where Blanche was bathing and while she’s occupied Stanley takes the opportunity to fill Stella in on her sister’s past. Blanche could over hear the conversation and go out to defend herself. This would confirm the rumours Stanley was retelling and could deepen Blanche’s character. Revealing things about herself instead of lying would be interesting.

 

Peace & Love,

-Christina

My first and last dance with mr. sam jib

Blog, characters


 

The idea that Harold could kill someone was completely ridiculous. I knew this. I did. Yet, the longer I thought about it, the less sure I was becoming.
I thought back to the cocktail party at Mr. Jib’s house. We’d arrived around six to his lavish estate, Harold looking dapper in a slick tuxedo and I in a floor skimming down that dazzled as I exited the car. The party was in full swing as we entered through the enormous front doors. Several servers offered us champagne flutes from trays they carried. We smiled and accepted.
Mr. Jib lit up as we approached through the crowd and greeted us warmly.
“Harold, such a pleasure you could make it,” he said, shaking Harold’s hand firmly. “And, this must be your wife.” He regarded me with sparkling chestnut eyes.
I offered him my hand. “Millie. I’m very pleased to meet you finally. Harold’s told me so much about you.” Mr. Jib was Harold’s boss down at the steel mill.
“All good things I assume.”
I grinned a little. “Of course.”
Harold stares at our entwined hands before I clear my throat and Mr. Jib lets go. I shuffled back a step and leaned into Harold’s side. Harold forced a smile onto his face. “Thanks for inviting us.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy that party,” Mr. Jib said as we melted into the crowd.
“Let’s dance,” Harold suggested, grabbing my glass and setting it down in a nearby table along with his. He led us to the middle of the floor and proceeded to guide us through the waltz. The music was enchanting and we spun around the floor between other couples for what seemed like hours.
A tap on his shoulder had Harold turning around.
“Mind if I cut in?” Mr. Jib grinned.
Harold’s face took on a light red shade but seeing at Mr. Jib was his boss, he decided letting him have one dance with his wife was alright. “Fine,” he grunted before dropping my hands and walking off the floor.
“Mr. Jib,” I smiled.
“Please, call me Sam,” he laughed, taking up Harold’s position and leading us around the floor in a flurry of spins and foot work. It felt like I was flying. “So, what do you do for work?”
“Well, I’m a secretary. I type memos, fetch coffee, records notes…” I flush lightly as I notice Sam’s eyes remain focused on my face as I speak. I avert my eyes, staring down at his chest, at the pocket square protruding from his breast pocket. “Enough about me. Harold tells me you’re considering a merger with the rival steel mill?”
“Yes. It’s all good business sense. Tell me, how did a fine looking gal like you end up with ol’ stick in the mud Harold?” His tone is joking, a flash of gleaming teeth visible between his parted lips.
“We were high school sweethearts, married for seven years this March.”
“How very romantic,” Sam said without much enthusiasm. He dipped me suddenly and in a rush I was nearly upside down. He pulled me back up and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I could show you real romance.”
“I beg your—“
He leaned in close to my ear and we rocked back and forth. “You’ve been stuck with the same guy. Boring, serious Harold for years. Don’t you wonder what you’re missing? What I could show you?”
“Mr. Jib, I don’t know what you think—“
He tilted down suddenly and kissed my cheek. I bolted from his grasp and bumped into a couple behind me. Harold barrelled through the crowd and grabbed hold of Mr. Jib’s lapels.
“Do not touch my wife again!” he shouted, the music drowning out the gasps around us.
“We were just dancing, weren’t we?” Mr. Jib asked innocently, his eyes darting to me.
“Don’t talk to her. I saw what you did. If you touch her again I swear I’ll… I’ll…”
Mr. Jib chuckled, pulling Harold’s hands from his jacket. “You’ll what?”
Harold looks down at his hands, then slowly back up to Mr. Jib. “I’ll kill you.”
I stepped forward, clutching Harold’s shoulders. “Harold! Don’t say such things.”
Mr. Jib appeared amused at Harold’s sudden bravery. “You keep that spark of bravado and you might just be able to hold onto your wife. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have guests.” He departed, though not before offering me a wink.
Harold was practically vibrating with anger.
“Come, Harold, let’s go. He didn’t mean any harm, he was just drunk.”
“I meant what I said,” he whispered as we exited the party.
“Sure you did. Let’s just go home and forget the whole thing,” I said. “I’ll make us some tea and we’ll watch the Ed Sullivan show. You like that show.”
I’d thought everything was forgotten, but a few weeks later, Harold came home happier than usual. He threw his lunchbox down on the kitchen table and kissed me.
“You’re home early, dear.”
“Yeah, they let us out early. There was an accident at the mill.”
I turn to him, sliding on a pair of oven mitts to retrieve the casserole from the oven. “That’s terrible, what happened?”
Harold opens today’s newspaper as he sits down at the table, flipping to the sports section. “It was Mr. Jib. He was up on the catwalk surveying the progress of a new shipment when he slipped and fell at least thirty feet.”
I freeze with me hands half way inside the oven. “Is he going to be alright?”
Harold flips the page. “He’d dead. Enough about that, when’s dinner going to be ready?”
It takes me a moment to respond. “Half an hour.”
“Call me when it’s ready,” he says, jumping up from the table and tossing the newspaper down. “I’m going to take nap.” He heads up the stairs, whistling a tune.
I stare after him. He…. Couldn’t have, could he? I shake my head and grin a little. No, not of course not. Mr. Jib was right when he said Harold was a stick in the mud, boring, and serious. Harold wouldn’t have the gall to do something that rash.
I chuckle to myself, crossing the kitchen to empty Harold’s lunchbox. When I open it I find something peculiar. Beneath the apple and half eaten sandwich is a pocket square. A red pocket square. I hold it up to my face and examine it. Mr. Jib wore a pocket square exactly like this one the night of the cocktail party.
I drop the pocket square and brace a hand against the table for balance. He did it. He really did it. Do I turn him in to the police?
He did it for me, because I mean so much to him. He couldn’t bare for another man to put his hands on me. It was for love. A crime of passion. A smile starts to spread across my face. He loves me.
With that, I return to preparing dinner. Harold’s getting his favourite dessert tonight.
 
-Collins

A spook-tacular Holiday!

fun, halloween, life, random, writing

treeSo Halloween is definitely my favourite holiday of the year. There’s just something so awesome about everyone dressing up as someone else for a while. For one night the atmosphere in the world seems happy, mysterious, and creepy. Anything seems possible. Plus you can scare the crap out of people and not get yelled at!

The kids trick-or-treating is what really does it. It’s just pure glee and fun. I love handing out candy and seeing their costumes. My favourite was from the early 2000s. This little girl was dressed up as a bunch of grapes. She was wearing purple and covered in purple balloons, with a little green hat. Beyond cute.

How can anyone not like horror movies? There’s just something about cheesy horror movies from the ’70s and ’80s that add to the holiday. The terrified screams and obvious plots coupled with really gory scenes are fantastic. (On a side note, why does it seem so many Halloween movies take place during Christmas? Gremlins? The Nightmare Before Christmas?) Besides the Halloween Town movies, there was this one movie I love to watch every year called The Halloween Tree. If you haven’t seen it, you should look it up.

If you really think about it, how strange is it that we chose the pumpkin to carve out, cut a face into, and then stick a candle inside. You know a holiday is awesome when you commit mass gourd murder!

And finally, do I need to say it? Chocolate. Candy. Yum. Every year I buy one box of candy for the kids and one for me.

Happy Halloween everyone!

-Collins